


Some Assembly Required

by marywhale



Series: Author's Favourites [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, and eats meatballs, the team goes to fantasy IKEA and buys furniture, there are also plenty of feelings to go around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marywhale/pseuds/marywhale
Summary: Fantasy IKEA is big, blue, and beautiful. It’s a shining beacon of good fantasy Swedish design. It’s the kind of place you go to for inexpensive flat-pack furniture to send with your communal child to Lucas’s Academy of Arcane Science, lest he end up with a dorm full of handmade, lavender-scented furniture carved by one of the Seven Birds and lose all hope of maybe being seen as an average boy genius.It's the kind of place you to go for cheap meatballs and family bonding.





	Some Assembly Required

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonymousAlchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Free Samples](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501080) by [anonymousAlchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist). 



> This fic started way back in December as a reply to a meme on tumblr, and then [anonymousAlchemist](http://anonymousalchemist.tumblr.com) hit 2k followers on tumblr and I thought "Fuck it. I'm going to finish it as a present." and now 5000 words and a bunch of found family feelings later, here we are.
> 
> This is a spiritual successor to her fantasy Costco fic, Free Samples, which you should read because it's excellent.

“I’m literally a carpenter though,” Magnus says, as they approach the automatic doors of the giant blue warehouse. “I could make furniture.”

“Agnes does _not_ want to be the weird kid who brings custom furniture to school.” Taako doesn’t look at Angus as he makes this claim, forging on ahead of everyone else, through the doors. “He’s already going to be the weird kid who’s ten years younger than everyone else.”

“More like five, sir,” Angus says, little legs moving fast to keep pace with Taako. “I’m not eight. I’m eleven.”

Taako stops walking and looks down at Angus, eyes narrowed. Humans age so _fast_. “No,” he says, after a moment. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“I think Angus knows how old he is, Taako,” says Barry. “Are we gonna get meatballs?”

“Uh, _yeah_. Of _course_ we’re going to get meatballs, Barold. What do you take me for?” Taako asks. “Come on. Let’s get the furniture thing over with so we can get to the good stuff.”

Fantasy IKEA is big, blue, and beautiful. It’s a shining beacon of good fantasy Swedish design. It’s the place to go for cheap flat-pack furniture to send your communal child off to Lucas’s Academy of Arcane Science with, lest he end up with a dorm full of handmade, lavender-scented furniture carved by one of the Seven Birds and lose all hope of _maybe_ being seen as an average boy genius.

“It’s cute that you’re so concerned about Ango, babe,” Lup says, hooking her arm through Taako’s as they step onto the escalator that will take them up to the showroom floor.

“Who’s concerned? I’m not concerned,” Taako protests, leaning into her touch. Lup’s physical body is still pretty new and the ability to _touch_ her is too. This is his sister’s hand, his sister’s arm—this is the puzzle piece that he’s been missing for years and years.

“Can I at least put the furniture together?” Magnus asks.

Taako glances over his shoulder at Magnus. Their party is too big for a group of people picking up furniture for _one_ kid—him and Lup up front, Magnus and Angus behind them, then Barry, with Lucretia, and Merle and Davenport in the rear—but nobody was willing to stay home.

“Cha’boy’s certainly not doing it,” he says.

Magnus beams and Taako steps off the escalator, leading their group into the showroom like a fucking mother duck.

*

Barry stands in front of a room full of dressers and wardrobes and shelves and can’t help the smile on his face as he watches his family slowly take it over. Angus is examining a chest of drawers made to look like sturdy oak with Lucretia. It’ll last maybe two years before falling apart, but two years is plenty of time for the kid to finish up his degree. Barry doesn’t know Angus well, but he’s sharp, logical, and completely awed by the magic he’s learning, soaking up spells like a sponge—he reminds Barry a little of himself, honestly.

Barry never thought about kids much before, too caught up in the other end of life’s spectrum, but they’re neat.

“Babe?” Lup drapes herself over Barry’s shoulders, kisses his cheek. “You’re a million miles away.”

“Just thinking,” he says, and turns to wrap his arms around Lup’s waist. “You wanna look for stuff for our place?”

Their place is a nice little house. It’s got a big yard and a basement in the process of being turned into a lab, a huge open plan living room/kitchen area that Barry can picture hosting family dinners in. An extra bedroom for Taako.

“Oh fuck,” Lup says, after a beat. “We’re going to need _furniture_.”

Barry laughs because, yeah, they’ve officially had the house for a couple weeks, but haven’t moved in yet. In some ways owning it doesn’t feel real yet. He spent a decade hopping in and out of bodies, looking for Lup and his friends, trying to convince Lucretia she’d made a mistake—spent the century before _that_ on the run from a world-ending hunger.

Permanence, ironically, still feels impermanent and fleeting.

Taako appears at their side before Barry can offer to start writing warehouse numbers down. “Lulu, let me put these in your bag,” he says, holding out a handful of tiny blue pencils. “Can you believe they just leave them out for anyone to take?”

Lup gives Taako’s purse a pointed look. “What’s wrong with your bag?”

“This is fantasy Gucci,” Taako says, and then opens it to show off the inside, already stuffed with pencils. “And it’s full.”

“I am _not_ letting you fill my bag with shitty pencils you’re never going to use.”

Taako pouts at Lup for half a second before turning to Barry. “Barold, my dude, my brother—how big are your pockets?”

Barry sighs and holds out a hand for the pencils. It’s simpler than refusal.

*

Things aren’t easy, but they’re better. Lucretia is out with her family and if things are rough with Taako and Davenport still, that’s okay—she’s allowed to be here. She should really stop thinking about it as being _allowed_. She is _wanted_ here.

“I don’t have that many clothes,” Angus says, looking far too serious for an eleven year old boy discussing furniture choices. “I think three drawers would be enough, but Taako keeps buying me things.”

Lucretia thinks about the years on the Starblaster when they were on planes with fashions Taako approved of, about the way he’d go all out, buying or bartering or stealing things for all of them. She thinks about the years when he declared it was time for a _makeover_ and would cut off his hair or magic it longer or force one of them into a new hairstyle. She thinks about the dresses he bought for her—the ones unlike anything she’d pick out for herself—which he’d poke and prod her into wearing.

She still has them, back on the moon base. She’d been too nostalgic to throw anything away, even the things ones she’d never wear without his encouragement.

“He does that,” she says, smiling down at Angus. “Does he insult the clothes you’re wearing when he gives them to you?”

“Always,” Angus says, looking up at Lucretia and grinning. “Don’t worry. I know it’s just a goof.”

“Good,” Lucretia says. “He’s just showing you he cares.”

“Bubelah.”

Lucretia and Angus turn as one to face Taako. He’s holding two fistfuls of pencils.

“Put these in your satchel,” Taako says, shoving the pencils at Angus. “We’re getting as much out of these suckers as we can.”

“You want… to steal pencils?” Angus asks, even as his hands close automatically around them.

“It’s not _stealing_ if they’re free.”

Lucretia arches a brow and Taako rolls his eyes.

“Don’t give me that look, Madam Director. If you do, we’re going to have to have a talk about moral grey areas. Besides, you owe me pencils at _least_.”

Lucretia freezes in place. This isn’t the place for the two of them to get into another argument about whether or not Lucretia made the right choice. She has regrets—of _course_ she does—but she did what she had to do. Taako’s not obligated to forgive her, but she’s apologized and that’s all she can do.

Taako sees her seize up and his eyes flick down to Angus beside her. Lucretia can see him thinking.

He snatches some of the pencils out of Angus’s grasps and passes them off to Lucretia instead. “Remember the cycle where I had to be your fake husband for an _entire year_?”

Lucretia blinks in surprise and lets out a startled laugh, taking the pencils. The people who’d found the light that cycle didn’t approve of unmarried women running about. Lup had gotten herself arrested over it and Lucretia had grabbed Taako’s hand to hold him back, instinctively.

The officials they were negotiating with had jumped to conclusions. Not dissuading them of the notion that she and Taako were married had been very convenient.

“You’re right. I do owe you for that,” she says, and sticks the pencils in her purse. “Do you want paper measuring tapes too?”

*

After the first two showrooms, it’s impossible not to get lost in fantasy IKEA. It’s a maze—deliberately designed to keep you inside, looking at the furniture and impeccably decorated false rooms. They take a wrong turn somewhere, after finding Angus a dresser, and end up in a sea of couches.

“I feel like I should be better at this,” Davenport says, frowning up at a sign that promises a shortcut to office furniture but instead seems to lead to kitchen cabinets and fronts.

Beside him, Merle laughs. “You flew us safely through the Hunger. I think you can handle IKEA.”

Davenport looks at him, then pointedly up at the useless sign they’re standing under. “Not going great so far, Merle.”

Merle shrugs and gestures back, to where Magnus and Taako are fighting over who gets to sit on the GRÖNADAL while Angus watches, giggling. Lucretia is with Barry and Lup, examining a sectional in sturdy looking dark blue fabric. “We’re not in a rush.”

Davenport spent a decade in a haze and came out of it just in time to complete the mission he spent a century leading. Now he’s… at loose ends. Now he’s figuring out what life looks like at the end of everything. He’s trying to find his joy and his itchy feet tell him it’s not _here_ , that he’s more likely to find it if he keeps moving, but everyone else seems relieved to be settling down.

Fantasy IKEA’s endless array of cozy, domestic showrooms is taunting him.

It feels disrespectful, almost, to be the one who’s unsatisfied with happily ever after, the one who wants _more_.

He didn’t chase down relics or fight monsters. He made tea and handled simple clerical tasks. He had his one last hurrah, flying the Starblaster, and he’s glad the Hunger is gone—wouldn’t wish it back for anything—but he’s still restless, deep down in his bones.

Merle lays a hand on his arm and Davenport realizes he’s been frowning up at the sign for too long, lost in his own frustration.

“I mean it, Dav,” Merle says. “We’re not rushing you. You take your time. We’ll be around.” His lips quirk into a smile and his expression is one of deep understanding. “Always wanted to get more mail anyway.”

Davenport can’t help smiling back. He reaches up and squeezes Merle’s hand. “Guess there’s no place to go but forward. Through kitchens to office furniture, probably.”

Merle snorts. “I’ll round up the kids.”

*

Angus picks out a FLEKKE daybed and a KLIMPEN desk for his dorm—both with lots of drawers to put things in—to go with his new BRIMNES dresser and then they head to the restaurant. Angus hasn’t had fantasy IKEA meatballs before, but he’s heard lots about them.

“The lingonberry sauce is kind of gross,” Magnus tells him, as he grabs a special cart just for carrying their trays. “Bitter. The gravy’s good though. You can get fries if you want, but the mashed potatoes come in a little mound like ice cream.”

“Does anyone want something besides meatballs?” Lucretia asks, also taking a tray cart. The rest of their oversized party has been tasked with finding a table for eight. “They have other options.”

“Why would you come to fantasy IKEA and get something that _isn’t_ meatballs?” Magnus asks, slotting trays into his cart and then handing a stack off to Lucretia. It’s a weekend, so the restaurant is pretty busy. The line fills in quickly behind them and Angus grabs a tray of his own.

“Hey, Maggie!” Taako yells, from the back of the line. “Get me and Lup a piece of TÅRTA MÖRK CHOKLAD!” There’s a pause. Angus can see Barry consulting with Taako. “And a piece of ÄPPELKAKA for Barold!”

“Got it!” Magnus yells back. “Drinks?”

Over the seat of people shuffling into the metal corrals that make up the food line, Taako gives Magnus an unimpressed look. “My _dude_ , who do you think you’re _talking_ to?”

Magnus shoots Taako a quick thumbs up. “Got it! Wine!”

Angus offers the halfling woman behind them and her kids an apologetic smile as he prods Magnus to get him to shuffle further along in line. Magnus grabs three slices of cake and a couple pieces of apple pie from the dessert display, then looks down at Angus. “Are you going to have something sweet too?”

“They have ice cream at the exit food stand,” Lucretia says. “And cinnamon buns.”

“Oh, we can still get ice cream if you have cake or pie now,” Magnus promises, and then puts a piece of TÅRTA MÖRK CHOKLAD on Angus’s plate. “You should try it. It’s part of the fantasy IKEA experience.”

Lucretia takes a much danitier pink BAKELSE PRINSESS from the dessert display for herself and they shuffle down the line. Magnus grabs a few beers and a couple bottles of wine from the drink display on the way to hot food. Angus gets a DRYCK FLÄDER. He has a soft spot for elderflower.

“I need eight meatball meals,” Magnus tells the server behind the counter. “One without lingonberry sauce. Two with fries instead of potatoes. Gravy on _everything_.”

It only _just_ fits on their array of trays. Lucretia picks up a cinnamon bun on their way to the registers and then buys everyone’s lunch.

“I don’t mind,” she says, when Magnus protests. “Do you _really_ want to divide all the cheques now?”

Angus looks over his shoulder again. The halfling mom looks like she regrets choosing to come to IKEA on a weekend. Her kids look like they’re on the verge of staging a revolt.

“We can figure out paying at the table, sir,” Angus says. “Everyone’s hungry.”

Magnus wavers for a moment, then nods. “You’re right. Taako gets moody if you don’t keep his blood sugar up.”

Angus presses his lips together to repress a smile and glances at Lucretia. She quirks an eyebrow, not bothering to hide her smile, and Angus knows they’re thinking the same thing, which is “ _How can you tell?”_ Nobody gives Lucretia enough credit for how funny she is.

“Fuckin’ _finally_!” Taako says, when they roll up and Magnus starts distributing food. “We thought they’d recruited you for cafeteria duty or something.”

“Is that something that’s happened before, sir?” Angus asks, setting his tray down next to Taako’s.

Now that Taako has his memories back, he’s eager to share the stories he deems suitable for public performance and has a tendency to set himself to be asked for them. Angus is sure most of the Starblaster crew has noticed Taako doing it—he knows for certain that everyone but Magnus and Merle has—but Taako’s like a stray cat sometimes. If _he_ knew that _they_ knew he was doing it, he’d object to them indulging him. Taako always needs plausible deniability.

“ _That_ story didn’t make it into a fuckin’ public broadcast,” Taako says. “Lup and cha’boy were only eighty at the time—practically _babies_ —and we were traveling with this shady as _fuck_ caravan. Definitely smugglers. Anyway, we’re lookin’ for a way out and we come to this tavern trying out this whole _buffet_ thing, right?”

Lup lets out a loud bark of laughter. “Oh _shit_ ,” she says. “Shit, babe—I _remember_ this! You told the tavern owner we were a hundred and twenty and he didn’t buy it for a _second_ , but then—”

“Then I cooked my fucking souffle for him and he was _sold_ ,” Taako says smugly. “Swore up and down anytime anyone asked about us that we were just small for our age.”

“These poor, tragic, _orphaned_ elves—their growth was stunted, you see,” Lup says, deepening her voice. “Shit, babe. I can’t believe you _remembered_ that.”

“Oh, I remember _everything_ now,” Taako says. If his eyes flick briefly to Lucretia and Lucretia takes a swig straight from her mini-bottle of red wine, nobody mentions it. But Angus is the world’s greatest detective and Lucretia has a handful of tiny pencils and paper measuring tapes in her bag. Slow progress is still progress of a kind.

*

Merle’s done pretty good at resisting the urge to buy anything to far, even though the thought of getting Mookie a LATTJO tamborine and sending him home to Hekuba is very tempting. He and Hekuba are working things out, getting to a more cordial place—no point in being an ass now just because it’d be funny. If there’s one thing Merle knows how to do, it’s make peace.

Merle’s resolve slips after they eat, when they head towards the Market Hall, past four bins filled with stuffed toys. Lup makes a delighted noise and pulls out a stuffed BLÅHAJ shark that’s half her size. “Holy shit,” she says, holding it up in triumph. “Holy _fuck_ , babe, look at this!”

Both Taako and Barry turn to look at her and both make equally pleased sounds.

“Get _ten_ ,” Taako says. “D’jango, you want a giant shark? Get D’jango a giant shark.”

Angus laughs. “I don’t need a giant shark, sir.”

“You absolutely need a giant shark, kid,” says Barry, picking one up and tucking it under his arm. “Who doesn’t need a giant shark?”

“Me too!” Magnus says, scooping one out of the bin. “Johann will _love_ this guy.”

Merle’s got a weird relationship with Angus. The way he felt before he got his memories back and the way he feels now are… different. Merle’s a different person, with his memories intact. He’s more certain of himself, more centered—he’s got a century of experience telling him some snot-nosed kid isn’t going to show up and oust him from his team—but that doesn’t change everything.

Merle still looks at Angus and sees the way his family is changing. They’ve adopted this boy genius into their lives and now they’re shopping for shit to make sure his dorm is well furnished. It’s domestic and parental and the kind of thing _old people_ do. And shit, Merle’s been old for a while. Merle was old before the Starblaster took off, but the rest of them? Taako and Lup and Magnus and Lucretia? They were _kids_ —too young to send anyone off to fantasy college. Even Barry and Dav aren’t exactly people Merle’d cast as caretakers, as much as they might have been forced into that role at one point or another over the past hundred years.

But here they all are, shopping for Angus, and Merle’s the only one who’s signed up to do something like this of his own volition, with the kid thing. Even then, Mavis is _sharp_ , but it’ll still be a few years before she’s off to school on her own.

Mavis and Angus are friends, though, and Mookie likes him. Merle knows it’s not logical to resent the kid for being young and bright and worming his way into all their hearts.

“Sir?”

Angus has a giant shark in his arms and everyone else is already off, into the Market Hall. Taako’s making a bee-line for housewares. Magnus has a shark over one shoulder and an elephant over the other, a yellow shopping bag hanging off each elbow as he trails behind Taako.

Angus is holding a HEMMAHOS soft toy in the shape of a cactus. He offers it to Merle. “I thought… maybe Mookie would like this?”

Mookie isn’t big on soft toys. He likes noise and movement and blinking lights. But it’s a cute cactus with stuffed spikes and there’s a little spider embroidered on the top of it. Merle takes it from Angus, turning it over in his hands, and can’t help smiling. So much for resisting impulse buys. “Not bad, kid,” he says. “Mook’ll like tossing this around.”

Angus grins, obviously pleased, and squeezes the shark in his arms close to his chest. He look so damn _young_ holding that thing. Too young to be going off to some fancy arcane science school on his own. “I’m glad to hear you say so, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.” Merle claps Angus on the back, then starts down to the rest of the stairs. “Come on. We better keep moving if we don’t want to be left behind. No appreciation for little legs.”

“The Captain doesn’t seem to have a problem keeping up,” Angus says, because Angus McDonald is a little shit. It’s one of the reasons everyone likes him. Truth be told, it’s one of Merle’s favourite things about him.

Merle gives Angus an unimpressed look. “I’m taking a shortcut,” he says. “When you catch up, tell the rest of them I’ll be waiting with the plants.”

Merle enjoys the horrified look that crosses Angus’s face. “I—yes, sir,” Angus says, taking a step back. “We’ll meet you there.”

Merle doesn’t know what anyone thinks he’s going to whisper strange flowers in the middle of fantasy IKEA, but the houseplant section is always his favourite and, okay, maybe he _does_ like to throw a compliment or two around to perk them up a bit. The plants here don’t get any sun and most of them are either over or under watered. They deserve a bit of praise.

There’s a display of LÖKARYD flowering bulbs that’s half-empty. The daffodils and tulips and hyacinths that remain are drooping. Merle reaches out to stroke the stem of one of the tulips and someone clears their throat behind him.

He turns, and Lucretia is standing there, holding a PHALAENOPSIS orchid.

“I was thinking of getting this,” she says. “For my office. Do you think I could keep it alive?”

The orchid looks a little ragged, but then again so does every other plant in the place. There’s something about the wear and tear that makes it charming, more lovable. It’s got character.

“People underestimate orchids,” Merle says. “They talk like they’re delicate flowers, but they’re hearty little bastards.” He reaches up and pats Lucretia’s hand on the pot. “You’ll do good, Lucretia. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He turns back to the rack of LÖKARYDs. “Now help me find a cart. I’m buying _all_ of these.”

*

Vehicle proficiency be damned, Lup takes charge of the flatbed cart she grabs as they enter the IKEA warehouse.

“Let me ride it,” Taako says, dumping two sharks onto the cart. “Lulu, come on.”

Lup sticks her tongue out at Taako, presses down on the handlebar to unlock the wheels on the cart, and takes off down the aisle, towards where they’re keeping Ango’s future desk. The handlebar locks the wheels if you don’t push down on it, and it’s supposed to make loading your cart while also stopping people from running—and _definitely_ supposed to stop people from _riding_ their cats—but Lup’s got Mage Hand in her corner.

She casts the spell and leans over the handle, laughing as she glides along the cement floor, the wind in her hair. It’s a bad fucking idea, but Lup’s had a body for three months, two weeks, and four days now. She’s making the most of it.

She drops her feet and skids to a stop in front of the shelf holding the KLIMPEN boxes. There are four—three big, one small—and she should probably wait for everyone else to catch up to start lifting things onto the cart, but fuck it.

Lup tucks the sharks safely onto some neighbouring boxes, where they can watch her work, and pulls the biggest, heaviest box of the four from the top of the stack. Her arms protest the weight _immediately_ and it’s _great_. Lup can feel the muscles in her arms as she maneuvers the box onto the cart—her biceps going _“maybe not?”_ and her deltoids saying _“fuck, why?”_ She’s not lifting properly at all so her back’s getting in on the complaining too. It’s glorious.

The first time Lup stubbed her toe, in this new body, she’d been so surprised by the sudden burst of pain, so shocked to remember that that was a _thing_ that _happened_ to people with physical forms, that she’d sat down and laughed until she cried. Barry’d been spooked out of his beautiful, nerdy mind, but it had been… good. Cathartic.

She can _stub_ her _toes_. It’s so fucking _normal_.

Lup pinches her finger between the box and the cart and hisses in pain. “Fuck!”

“That’s what you get,” Taako says, from behind her. “You’re a fuckin’ _wizard_ , Lup. What are you even doing?”

Lup turns to look at Taako, who’s got his wand out and is giving her an unimpressed look. Magnus is next to him, grinning and holding Taako’s selections from the Market Hall—a crinkly yellow bag full of kitchenwares on one shoulder and a bag of candles on the other—along with his own stuffed animal selections.

“Enjoying myself,” she says, and scoops the sharks off the box she left them on. They’re _soft_ and Lup’s kind of got a thing for fabric texture now. “Don’t waste a spell slot on levitation. Let Maggie feel useful.”

“Hey,” says Magnus. “I’m useful.”

“Yeah, he’s holding my shit,” Taako says. “Davenport and the rest of them went to find Angus’s bed. Barry’s getting the dresser.”

“We’re getting a couch too,” Lup says. “A KIVIK. For our house.”

“I could build you something,” Magnus says. “I wanna build you something.”

“Build us a table,” Lup says, reaching up to pat Magnus’s arm. She takes the shark and the elephant from him. “Something big enough for at _least_ twelve people. We’re just gonna buy the couch. Now give Taako his shit because he can carry it his own damn self and have a go at the boxes, big guy.”

Magnus laughs as Taako squawks in protest and suddenly finds himself weighed down by his bags of tchotchkes so Magnus can do the heavy lifting for them.

“Ugh,” Taako says, shouldering the bags. “You’re getting a couch for your house and holding four stuffed animals. This is so _domestic_.”

Taako’s heart isn’t really in the bit. Lup bumps their shoulders together, as Magnus drops the second box on top of the first. “Kravitz would be here if he could get off work. He’s covering for me and Barry.”

The tips of Taako’s ears go pink and he pointedly doesn’t look at her. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. Who brought up bones? Not me.”

“Sure,” Lup says. “You’re not thinking about him at all. If I look in your bag you definitely _didn’t_ pick up the FÖRKORTA just because it looked like a shiny gold bird and that’s Kravitz’s thing, right?”

Taako tugs his bags closer to his body. “I’m going to go find _Barold_ ,” he says, loudly. “Barold _appreciates_ me.”

Lup laughs and that feels good too. All of this—dunking on her brother, making him run away, _laughing_ , these moments of joy and affection and _love_ —feels better than good. It feels _right_.

*

Secretly, Magnus loves fantasy IKEA. They’ve always got cool stuff and yeah, okay, he _is_ a carpenter, but Magnus gets that sometimes you don’t need custom furniture that’s handcrafted with care. Sometimes you just want a chair that’s going to last you a couple years before you move on with your life. Sometimes you’re not ready to settle down.

Magnus is though. He’s spent a long time feeling unmoored and now he’s ready to live in a nice house filled with furniture he made himself and a shit load of dogs. Johann is his baby, but he’s going to expand. He’s got _plans_.

He’s also, thanks to Lup deciding she’d rather carry soft toys than drive, got control of one of their four carts.

Magnus lets Davenport lead the convoy to the tills. He lets Merle follow Davenport with his cart full of plants and Barry and Taako follow Merle. It feels right to walk behind everyone. He can keep an eye on them all from here.

“Well, look at _you_ ,” says a voice, behind Magnus, where he _wasn’t_ watching, and he jumps, turning to face whoever managed to sneak up on him with his hand automatically going to his back for Railsplitter, even though he left his axe behind today after Lucretia suggested maybe they didn’t need to bring weapons to fantasy IKEA.

The person behind him is smiling in a familiar, shitty way, although Magnus has never met them before. They’re wearing a bright yellow polo with blue vertical stripes that says IKEA in big letters on the arm.

“No need to be so jumpy,” they say, and extend a hand. “I’m _Hobbes_ the Sales Sorcerer, and I see you and your party just went _hog wild_ in our store today, hmm?”

“Sweet Pan,” says Merle, walking up beside Magnus on the right. “There’s _another one_.”

Hobbes looks their group over, head tilted in consideration. “Another one?”

“Do you have a cousin or something, thug? Warlock?” Taako saunters over and props himself up on Merle’s shoulder, staring down Hobbes. “Works at fantasy Costco?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells!” Hobbes says, voice bright. “Fantasy IKEA and fantasy Costco are unaffiliated megastores!”

“Sure,” Magnus says, looking Hobbes over. “We’re, uh, we’re in line for this cash already. Thank you. I don’t think we need any help.”

“Oh?” Hobbes glances over the four carts of purchasing they have to do today. Maybe it _is_ a lot of stuff. “You’re not interested in delivery?”

Taako snorts. “Magic, homie,” he says, wiggling his fingers at Hobbes. “I’ll just teleport this shit where it’s going.”

Hobbes hums in consideration. “And _assembly_?” he asks. “You know, I hear some people find our furniture instructions… frustrating.”

“Oh, I’ve got Comprehend Languages,” Barry says. “We’re okay. Thanks.”

“I’m a carpenter,” Magnus tells Hobbes. “I think I can figure out how to put flat pack furniture together.”

Hobbes gives them a skeptical look. “Sure,” he says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Are we _sure_ we don’t want help with assembly?” Lucretia asks, watching as Hobbes walks away.

“You’ve got a carpenter, Barold, and Agnes working on this,” Taako says. “How hard can it be? _Oh!_ I’m going to get a pack of cinnamon buns. Who else needs cinnamon buns?”

“Get me a lingonberry sundae,” says Davenport, and Magnus remembers ice cream.

“I want cinnamon buns and an ice cream cone!” he says. “Get one for Ango too.”

“And me,” says Lup, then pauses. “You know what, I’ll come. They’re going to take fifty years counting Merle’s plants anyway. Ango?”

“This is mostly my furniture,” Angus points out, gesturing to the multiple carts carrying multiple boxes. “I should stay and pay.”

“Nah,” says Magnus, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “Go get your ice cream, kid. I mean, what’s family for?”

Family, in the after, isn’t what Magnus pictured it would be, but it’s... nice. It’s imperfect and messy, but so’s he. It suits him.

*

Later, they get home. Later, they lay out all the components of the furniture they bought—a boy genius, an engineer, and Magnus—armed with allen wrenches and hieroglyphic-like instructions.

The later stretched out in front of them, into hours.

“I’m _literally_ a carpenter though,” Magnus says, shoving half a desk away from himself. “How is this backwards _again_?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or kudos. They're greatly appreciated.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr where I'm [@marywhal](http://marywhal.tumblr.com)!


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